


what you have and what is yours

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [189]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Cinderella Elements, Cissexism, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Fairy Tale Elements, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Marking, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 04:17:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20558105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Arthur just wants the two of them to be able to dance together in public. If that means Merlin has to wear a dress for the occasion, well...he's definitely not complaining.Third place winner for Kinkalot 2019 Challenge #3: Kink Link.





	what you have and what is yours

**Author's Note:**

> Please see tags for content warnings/notes and proceed accordingly. 
> 
> Kinks chosen were:  
\- crossdressing  
\- oral sex  
\- nipple play  
\- marking/possessive behaviour
> 
> Song link was _Keep Holding On_ by Avril Lavigne, but it was kind of inspired by _King_ by Lauren Aquilina, hence the title. 
> 
> Don't ask me how Cinderella got involved, because I have no idea.
> 
> Please do not repost elsewhere or list my fic on Goodreads (or any other similar spaces).

The dress is one of Morgana’s cast-offs, cut from a deep turquoise silk that brings out Merlin’s eyes.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Merlin says, smoothing a hand nervously across his stomach. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look fine,” Arthur says, and though he’d intended to say something more reassuring, that’s about as far as he gets before his voice dies out. Merlin looks stunning, the low-cut neckline highlighting his pronounced collarbones and the white arc of his throat, the bodice slightly curved to show just a hint of the chest beneath. With his soft mouth and long eyelashes, he looks like exactly the type of girl Arthur was once accustomed to fucking, pressed up together in an alcove somewhere with her skirts around her waist, and Arthur’s mouth is dry.

“I hate you,” Merlin says, without conviction. He can’t seem to stop playing with his laces, and Arthur wonders if he likes it, the way the dress feels against his skin, the rustle of fabric every time he moves. “If your sister finds out, I’m never speaking to you again.”

“Is that a promise?” Arthur asks, amused, but when the doors swing open he reaches for Merlin’s hand and squeezes hard. “Just follow my lead, all right?” he whispers. “And stay strong. No one is going to recognise you.”

There’s no more time. Merlin holds onto him tightly as they step into the Great Hall, and Arthur lifts his chin as all eyes turn towards them. It’s a masque, so it’s supposed to be strange and sort of phantasmagorical, but having Merlin at his side like this makes it seem like a dream—a dream where Arthur gets to claim what’s his, and dance with Merlin in his arms for all to see.

It’s only for tonight. That’s how long the fairytale usually lasts, isn’t it, before the clock strikes midnight and everything falls apart? He tries to concentrate on the beat of the music, on putting on the kind of show that will please his father’s guests, but he can’t stop thinking about Merlin’s back under his palms, his warmth, the movement of his hips as he dips and twirls.

“I want to fuck you in that dress,” he murmurs, and Merlin stumbles, catching himself a moment before he falls.

“Ass,” he mutters back, his fingernails digging into Arthur’s arms. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

There are recesses in the walls for things like this; deep enough to be curtained, shallow enough to provide a fig-leaf for propriety. The nearest one is empty, to Arthur’s relief, and that’s reason enough for him to drag Merlin inside and plunder his mouth; to push him up against the wall and touch him properly, for once exactly where Arthur needs him to be.

“Do you know—how long—it took—to get into—this gown,” Merlin says, letting out tiny gasps as Arthur yanks at his laces. Arthur presses kisses to the exposed flesh, sucking a nipple into his mouth without answering, and Merlin arches his back and moans, hands clutching at Arthur’s hair. “_Ohh._ Oh fuck, fine—just strip me here, then. I’m sure no one will care.”

“Tsk tsk, Merlin,” Arthur says, smirking. “Such immodesty.”

“I’m not _actually_ a girl, you know.” Merlin’s breathing is ragged, mask crooked, the curls of his black wig tumbling about his shoulders. “And I don’t have any actual breasts for anyone to gawp at.”

Arthur considers him for a moment. “I don’t care,” he says, dropping to his knees. “They don’t get to see you like this.” Underneath all the ruffles and flounces, Merlin is still wearing his leather boots, filthy and incongruous against the layers of silk, and Arthur wants to laugh except that that’s _all_Merlin is wearing—and also, Merlin is hard.

“Only I get to see you like this,” he breathes, hiking Merlin’s skirts to take him in his mouth, and whatever Merlin says in reply is lost in the garbled noise he makes as Arthur swallows him down.

It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s close; privacy is hard to come by in a castle, especially for a prince in love with a peasant, and chances to spend the night together have been few and far between. For that reason, Arthur feels compelled—nay, _entitled_ to take his time, suckling first at the head of Merlin’s cock and then down its length until he reaches Merlin’s balls.

“Nnngh, Arthur.” Merlin’s hips lift, involuntarily, and Arthur holds him still, enjoying the way this makes Merlin’s body quiver and contract beneath his hands. He nuzzles into Merlin’s groin, inhaling his scent, then bites gently at his thigh, leaving his mark in the one place he can be sure no one will see it. The noise Merlin makes is audible even over the music.

“_Hate_ you,” he gasps, but this time it sounds a lot like the opposite. “For God’s sake, Arthur, _please_—”

Grinning, Arthur returns his attention to Merlin’s cock, taking it into his mouth again and hollowing his cheeks. The knowledge that they could be caught at any moment is both terrifying and exhilarating, but it’s the way Merlin shudders in his grip that Arthur loves, the hem of the stolen gown rustling against his skin. What he wouldn’t give to have more time—or better yet, to have Merlin in his bed, without having to care a whit what anyone thinks—but if this evening is all they have, then it’s worth the risk to see Merlin like this: mouth open, eyes slits, the turquoise silk bunched around his hips as he follows Arthur over the edge.

Afterwards, Merlin slides down the wall beside him, mask gone, wig askew. Arthur tugs it off and pulls him into a kiss, burying his fingers in Merlin’s hair, and Merlin laughs softly, licking the taste of himself from Arthur’s lips.

“You’re going to have to help me fix my dress,” he says, and Arthur smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments :)


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